Gunshots rang out rapidly, striking several creatures in the head and dropping them. Herrera looked back to see Private Choi and Gilbert running up to him, guns blazing.
“What the fuck you waiting on?!” Gilbert barked. “Get up!”
Choi continued to fire as Gilbert helped Herrera out of his parachute, the Corporal scrambling to his feet. The trio retreated a bit, putting room between them and the horde.
“You all right?” the ex-Sergeant asked.
Herrera nodded. “Yeah, fine.”
“Where are the others?” Choi asked breathlessly. “Where’s Sarge?”
The Corporal shook his head. “Two of them landed on the field,” he explained. “I don’t know about McCarty.”
A moment later, rapid gunfire erupted in the south, on the outer fringe of the field. They quickly rushed towards the noise, keeping their eyes peeled for trouble.
About two hundred yards away they spotted muzzle flashes going towards a slow-moving mass of rotted corpses. As they got closer, they spotted Sergeant McCarty, tangled in his chute cords that had woven in with a horde of zombies.
They ran hard, raising their assault rifles as they went, and opened fire at fifty yards. The bullets weren’t accurate, but they were desperate.
At thirty yards, the mass got closer and closer to the Sergeant, who struggled to free himself from the tangled mass of cords. He fired several more three-round bursts before his gun went dry, and the ghouls overwhelmed him.
Herrera skidded to a stop twenty yards from the Sergeant.
“What are you doing?” Choi demanded. “We gotta help him!”
The Corporal shook his head, knowing it was too late. Choi let out a frustrated scream as they watched McCarty reach into his bag, pulling out a grenade and jerking out the pin with his teeth just as the zombies piled on top of him.
The gruff Sergeant didn’t even scream as the ghouls ripped into his flesh.
The trio of soldiers rushed away from the scene, not wanting to get caught in the shrapnel. As they cleared the area, a dull explosion sounded, countless bodies softening the noise of the blast.
The Corporal walked with determination into the neighborhood beside the school, the entire weight of the mission now on his shoulders.
CHAPTER THREE
Herrera, Gilbert, and Choi took a knee at the edge of a neighborhood, looking out over a golf course leading to the country club rally point. Choi kept a watch on the rear, as the fighting through the neighborhood had been tough and consistent.
“I’m starting to think nobody on this island survived this,” he muttered.
Gilbert wrinkled his nose. “And apparently everybody was having a picnic, too,” he spat. “Haven’t seen this many of those things out in the open since Spokane.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact we have to get our job done,” Herrera said firmly. He scanned the golf course, seeing small patches of creatures, making the plotting of the path through more difficult.
“I can’t believe Sarge is gone,” Choi groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face. “What the fuck are we gonna do now?”
Gilbert clenched his jaw. “We’re gonna listen to the Corporal,” he said. “He’ll get us through.”
Herrera blinked at the ex-Sergeant in surprise, and Gilbert gave him a confident nod. The Corporal wasn’t sure what had brought it on, though in the back of his mind he had a feeling the Private knew they were in deep shit. If even Gilbert could see that, then he worried they were in the worst shape they could be. He shook his head, assigning his brain to the task at hand.
“We’re on the move,” he said, “follow close, melee kills only. We don’t know what the situation is at the rally point, and until we do, I don’t want any more attention to us than necessary.” He stared at them expectantly. “Good?”
Both Privates nodded and pulled out their knives, and he led them out. They ran to the golf course, hopping over the waist-high chain-link fence and darting onto the fairway. There was a group of four zombies there, and Herrera led them up, knocking several over as the trio made short work of them with stabs to the head.
The country club building was half a mile from their location, with the moonlight doing just enough to illuminate the rolling grassy hills of the course. The Corporal led them through, darting in between smaller groups of zombies when they could, reaching a final duo of ghouls in the way.
Herrera ran past them, letting the Privates dispatch the undead so he could get within view of the club. He knelt by a tree on the hill, studying the area as the other two joined him.
“There’s some movement inside,” he murmured as he studied the shuffling beneath some artificial light source. “Looks like they’ve secured the rally point,” he confirmed. “Let’s get moving.”
They moved quickly across the field, making sure to wave and zigzag a bit in case someone was keeping watch. The last thing they wanted was a friendly fire incident, especially when so many of their team had already been lost.
As they approached, a tall blond soldier waved maniacally at them. “We got friendlies!” he called back into the room. “Man, are we glad to see you,” he gushed as the trio approached. “Thought you were goners.”
“Some of us were,” Gilbert replied.
Ayers looked them over, eyes widening. “Where’s Sergeant McCarty?”
Herrera shook his head. “He didn’t make it,” he replied. “Lost two others, too.”
Dixon came around from the other side of the room as Ayers’ shoulders slumped. “What’s going on?” he asked, and spotted the Corporal. “Where’s Sarge?”
“He didn’t make it,” Herrera repeated.
Gilbert took a deep breath. “Went out like a beast, though.”
“Holy shit,” Dixon said, and then turned to the Corporal. “So, you’re in charge, now?”
Herrera nodded, letting out a deep sigh. “It would appear that way.”
“Well, I hope you’re up to the task,” Dixon replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “because we got a shit-tastic situation on our hands.”
The Corporal straightened his shoulders. “What’s going on?”
“Well, for starters, whoever thought it was a good idea to land in the woods deserves to
